


As Constant As a Star

by ryanreynolds



Series: Two Stars Born from Different Constellations [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Implications of Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Soulmate-identifying dreams, Unrelated - they don't even know each other exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:56:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryanreynolds/pseuds/ryanreynolds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At 19 Sansa had woken up in a meadow with the most beautiful flowers and an eternal sunset, that coloured the whole scenario in a golden light.</p><p>In dreams Jon and Sansa's fates are woven together, and true love will always prevail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Constant As a Star

**Author's Note:**

> In this world, soulmates are very rare, so Sansa doesn't link her dream to the bond between her and Jon :)
> 
> Title from 'Far Longer than Forever' from the Swan Princess

At 19 Sansa had woken up in a meadow with the most beautiful flowers and an eternal sunset, that coloured the whole scenario in a golden light. She stood face to face with a man with black curls and grey eyes, and she had smiled to him. He was a figure of her imagination but he felt as real as her brother’s death did, and so she accepted his presence. 

When they met, they had stood in front of each other, staring with a solemn smile. No word had been spoken that first night, where they met. They had just studied each other, like neither understood why they were facing each other. As she traced his features, she could see a resemblance to Robb, in that way his eyes shone with kindness and his whole aura screamed honour, and she felt like crying, screaming and tearing the whole dream apart. 

The second night, they had introduced themselves. His name was Jon, hers was Sansa; he already knew that, but she told him anyway. They hadn’t said much else, had just walked beside each other through the field. He had picked a flower and given it to her, and she had held it to her heart, treasuring it, even though she knew it’d disappear as soon as she opened her eyes. She felt safe, walking with him, despite knowing he was just an image from her subconsciousness. 

The third night, Sansa had sat beneath a tree and felt that the whole world was shattering. The sunset felt false, and the beautiful flowers felt a terrible lie. Even as he came to sit in front her, she could not bring herself to look at him. He, perhaps, was the biggest fraud in her dream, and she wanted to scream at him. Tell him to go to hell. Scream at her subconsciousness to show her another dream; she didn’t want to see him any more.

When she finally looked to him, he had placed himself a meter from her, and looked at her with a kind pity and a smile, that she felt shone more brightly than the fake sun.

“What happened?” She wanted to laugh and scream, for he knew. He knew what had happened, he knew everything about her, and she did not know why she would create someone who pretended not to. 

She leaned her head against the tree, looked to the sky, and shrugged. “He died, was murdered by his own friends.”

Tears ran from her eyes then, and the world grew blurry. “He was my favourite person in this world.”

Growing up, Robb had been her pillar, the one she could always rely on to protect her and support her. He had taught her how to walk, wiped her tears more often than her parents, had taught her how to dance by placing her feet on his and waltzing through their diner room and kitchen. He had been there on her first day of school, holding her hand, as he walked with her to the grand building, proudly presenting her to his friends. ‘ _This is my sister, Sansa, if you pick on her, I’ll get mad_ ’, he had said with a powerful force behind his words, and his friends had said hi to her and ran away. She had given Robb the biggest hug, thinking him a hero like those from her songs.

Though, it had all changed when he had gone to college, she still thought him one of the best persons in the world, and as the priest had spoken of how God loved him, she almost couldn’t contain her anger. What god loved someone and decided to take them back? What god willingly let one of their children get murdered?

No god would ever do that, especially not the God from the hymns, and so she decided, there could not be any gods. If God wouldn’t let a loved child get murdered, he could not exist, for no one could not love Robb.

A hand came to hers, hesitantly, and a thumb softly caressed her skin. “He felt the same.”

He had no way of knowing that, but she believed him. The way he spoke made little room for argument. So she nodded.

“I miss him,” she croaked out, her voice little more than a shaky whisper.

A warm body enveloped her then, two strong arms sneaking around her waist, holding her close, and she let her tears flow, let her sobs shake her body to the core, and held onto him as though she would drown if she let go.

***

He had become a part of her everyday life, even though she couldn’t figure out why she kept seeing him. At first she had thought him a way for her subconsciousness to get through the clouding grief that darkened her world and heart; as a way to learn how to live without Robb. As a way for her to one day stop calling Robb’s cellphone, as just to hear his voice one more time, ‘ _hey, it’s Robb, I couldn’t take your call right now, so leave your number after that tone and I’ll try to get back to you in the next year. Cheers_ ’.

But when she didn’t feel like every step without Robb in this world slowly killed her any more, he continued to show up in her dreams. When she didn’t see Robb’s ghost at every corner any more, he still was in her dreams. When she didn’t hear Robb’s voice in her mind, when she didn’t see his lifeless eyes and body, when she didn’t feel like screaming and crying every time someone mentioned his name, she still saw him every night.

He was a calming presence, and she had often felt that he was what anchored her to this world.

He told her of how he lived with his aunt, who was just a few years older than her. He told of how his parents had died long before he could even walk, how his uncle had been killed in prison after a rape attempt, how he had found his aunt and he had cried for an hour straight of relief. He spoke of how together they survived, two Targaryens against the world, how they were all each other had, and they could not bare to live apart. He spoke of how Dany – he said her name with such affection, and Sansa’s heart yearned for Robb – worked two jobs, how she told him stories of their ancestors and told tales of dragons and fire.

Sansa listened to it all and felt her heart break. She cursed herself for giving him such a tragic story, and she hugged him in an attempt to make up for her sins. He seemed surprised but squeezed back. It felt perfect, sitting with him under the sun, in the middle of flowers the colours of the rainbow, and she never wanted to wake.

If she told her psychologist of Jon, he would tell her that it was not healthy to latch onto something so temporary, something so easily lost if her subconsciousness took him away. So she said nothing of him to anyone. He was her secret knight, and he rescued her night after night.

***

When she went to college in America with her best friend, Jeyne, Jon was still there at night. A calming rock in the storm that was college and the worries it gave her. Having literature as a major was fun, especially when she was so interested in the subject, so interested in the old songs, in the old stories, but the constant of worry of not being able to get a job kept nagging at her in the back of her head. In her classes, on her walks, and in her dreams.

Jon was there and listened, quiet as always, to her rattling of excuses for why she had chosen literature, and how everyone should do what they wanted to do, and not worry about whether there was any job security to it. That everyone should just find what they loved and do it. He smiled to her, and a butterfly fluttered in her stomach. The sun seemed to shine a little brighter.

He confessed to having wanted to be an art major – the same major as Jeyne, she silently thought – but didn’t because his aunt, as loving as ever, didn’t think all the money was worth it, if he was going to graduate to unemployment.

At times like these, Sansa had trouble reminding herself, that Jon wasn’t real. That everything he told her about himself, was a fabrication of her subconsciousness. There was no Daenerys, who helped Jon through everyday life, there were no Aegon and Rhaenys that had died, small and innocent, before Jon’s birth, there were no wishes for becoming an art major, and most importantly, there was no Jon. It was all a big lie, it was all her doing.

That Jon wanted to become an art major, but didn’t because of the shaky job security, she equalled to Jeyne being an arts. Beautiful, happy Jeyne who took everything in a stride and always found a solution to everything. ‘ _I swear, Sans, if no one will ever like my art, I will get a dance major and become a stripper. A girl’s gotta eat._ ’

“What did you take a major in then?” She asked, while she softly traced his cheekbones with her finger.

He caught her hand and leaned into her touch. “Business, that’s what my dad did.”

She nodded; she remembered. Rhaegar Targaryen, as Jon’s dad was named – a name that coincidentally matched a famous, deceased CEO – had been the head of a successful firm.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was alright, but it was more for Dany’s sake than mine.” He smiled down at her. “I enjoy being with you a lot more.”

A smile spread across her lips, and she was quite sure there was a million small butterflies in her stomach, flying around in excitement.

She didn’t know why she felt like she had accomplished something when their lips touched. She didn’t know why she felt like she had kissed her crush, or why she felt like this could be the sort of love, Robb had told her about. Jon was a dream picture her mind had created. And yet, this felt so real. It felt so real, so beautiful and all she wanted to do was jump up and down in joy.

***

The beginning of the end started with a party. It started with her dancing close to her best friend, laughing and smiling.

They had decided that they had wanted to just let loose, forget the worries of college life, of how their respective majors would never give them a job, and that they would probably die in the streets. For this night, they decided, none of that mattered, hell, it didn’t even exist. For this night, they would let nothing get in the way of having the best time of their lives.

They had spent an hour getting ready, curling their hair and applying make up. The time had mostly been spent with them gossiping, imagining together the boys they’d pull at the club. They imagined boys with golden hair, with hair like the sundown, with hair like the first snow, and with hair like obsidian glass. Jeyne spoke of a boy with brown hair, and Sansa spoke of a boy with charcoal hair, and eyes grey like the storm.

Jeyne looked at her with a smug smirk. “Say, Sansa, do you already have your eyes set on someone?”

A scarlet blush spread across her cheeks, and Jeyne’s smile grew. “Come on, then, spill it. Who is this mystery prince?”

A prince. Yes, Jon was like a prince out of the old songs. A prince rescuing her from dark dreams, kissing her so sweet and softly. What she would give to see him, just once, when her eyes were open.

“That is a secret, sweet friend,” she answered with a secretive smile, and Jeyne moaned dramatically.

“Finally something exciting happens, and you just keep it to yourself?” She shook her head, like the whole world was coming to an end. “And you dare call yourself my friend?”

Sansa laughed and winked at her, before going to her cupboard to find her dress for the evening. A black dress, embroidered with stones in all manners of intricate patterns. It fit her nicely and brought out her curves. Jeyne sighed dreamily as she turned around.

“Oh, Sans, that lucky boy of yours won’t be able to tear his eyes away from you.”

She smiled at her friend and looped her arm through hers, as she brought her shot glass forth.

“To a good night, and to a lot of worldies.”

Jeyne snickered and lifted her eyebrows. “To your prince Charming.”

When they reached the house, a lot of shots had been downed. The beautiful thing about living on campus was, that when the fratboys threw a party, there was just enough distance to being able to walk there on foot, and drinking at the same time. The party was held in celebration over spring break, and almost everyone had been invited; of course, there were always those who no one really spoke with, who had already travelled to their respective homes.

Sansa kissed Jeyne’s cheek as they entered, smiling to the Harry – a boy with hair like the sand on the never ending beaches, and one she very much liked the look of – and took the closest drink offered to her. Her mother would have thrown a fit, if she had seen it, but luckily, an ocean lay between them, and tonight, Sansa was going to get drunk.

Music thumped against the walls, and they jumped and danced in rhythm to the heavy bass. Jeyne’s lovely brown hair flew up and down, as she whooped and jumped around the floor. A fratboy named Ramsay – is what Sansa’s drunken mind was quite sure his name was – had taken to her lovely friend, and Sansa smiled encouragingly to her. The boy was not a bad catch, and she knew he had been one of the boys, Jeyne had suggested they tried to pull tonight.

What felt like seconds passed before she felt an arm looping around her waist, and she turned to meet the blue eyes of Harry Hardyng. A big smile crept across her lips, as she continued her dance; hips moving to the music, arms caressing his face, his neck. His eyes lit up at her enthusiasm, and he let his hands move around her hips, her waist, her back. His head dropped to hers, and she felt his hot breath against her ear. She sneaked her hands around his neck, letting her nails dig softly into his skin.

When his lips crashed against hers, the world didn’t stop turning as it had, when Jon’s touched hers. But Jon was a dream, and Harry was real. Harry was there even when her eyes opened, and Harry’s touch was hot against hers, like Jon’s could never be. Jon’s smile could be warm like the sun, but she could never feel any temperature from his skin.

Jon was a dream, and they belonged to each other only when her eyes were closed.

The kiss broke, and she tried to catch his gaze. His eyes, however, darted around the room, as to look for someone, before they returned to her. Where they had been full of warmth and flirtation before, concern and panic now filled them and made them shine.

“Where’s your friend?”

Sansa looked at him with confusion, and she stepped away with furrowed brows. “Why are you interested?” Surely he had not done this to make Jeyne notice him?

He shook his head. “No, Sansa, no, you don’t understand. I’d love to stay with you, here, all night, but where is your friend? Where is Ramsay?”

An icy stone settled in her stomach. “What do you mean?”

Before he could answer, a hand touched his shoulder. As he turned around, the face of the ever timid Theon Greyjoy was there to face him. “He’s out the back, hurry.”

Harry nodded quickly and began to push through the crowd, leaving Sansa alone. She looked around to see if Ramsay or Jeyne really weren’t on the dance floor any more, and as none of the faces around her were someone she recognized, she began to make her way to where she had seen Harry go.

The beginning of the end started with a party. And it ended with flask to her head.

With great effort, she pushed the door open to the little courtyard, and to her horror, she observed the unfolding scene in front of her. Harry shouting at Ramsay while kicking and hitting him, Ramsay defending himself with a creepy smirk on his face, Theon standing in the corner trying to protect Jeyne. And Jeyne, lovely and beautiful Jeyne, stood frozen with a red mark on her cheek and dark tears running down her cheeks. Shining and happy Jeyne stood in a dark corner, shivering with fear.

Without looking back, Sansa ran to her. She did not notice Jeyne’s widening eyes, she did not hear Harry nor Theon’s yelp, their cries of warning, and she did not see Jeyne pushing Theon in an attempt to get to her before she hit the ground.

She screamed, she’s pretty sure of that, and as she fell to her knees, hair came crushing down. There was blood in it, and as her vision blurred, and the blood poured from the wound – somewhere on her head, why did her spit taste like iron? Was she going to die? – , her mind reminded her of the red fire and blood, and of the stories Jon had retold of the ancient Targaryens – riding on their firebreathing dragons, how the fire matched their blood, and how so much was spilled that it painted the sunset sky red. The sky was on fire, like their blood.

 _Oh, how sweet it would’ve been to see him alive_ , she thought, as her vision turned as crimson dark as his soft curls. Maybe she would now spend eternity with him, with Robb. Maybe death wasn’t bad after all.

It seemed like hours had gone by, before she heard his voice, and she pulled the darkness closer in attempt to get to him.

“Wake up, Sansa.”

She shook her head, the darkness was soft, the darkness was warm, the darkness held her close and kept her safe.

“ _You have to wake up._ ”

Again, she refused. Being in the darkness meant hearing his voice, and if she would never see another flower, it would be worth it. His voice was all she needed to survive.

“ _If you want to survive, open your eyes_.”

The darkness began to lighten, and she felt content. Her eyes did not react, so she could not do what Jon wanted of her, but she felt safe wherever she was. This was as warm as home had been with Robb.

“Please, Sansa-”

“I’ll be there-”

“-Find you.”

“ **Open your eyes**!”

The last sentence sounded like a roar, and the darkness’ grip on her loosened, and it felt like she was pushed to a surface, she did not want to break. He had sounded so scared and angry, when she did not obey him, but the surface seemed cold, it seemed dangerous, it seemed unwelcoming. It seemed to be a void without Robb.

As her eyes opened, it felt like she had been struck by lightning and a pain in her head flashed white hot, and a scream tore through her throat.

***

She had been released a day after her awakening with strict instructions of lying down, of not watching television or use her cellphone more than necessary, of not running, of not jumping, of not drinking, of not concentrating too hard, of not reading. She waved the nurse away from her; she had understood, she was to do nothing but lie down and breathe. And maybe that too would be too hard on her head’s injury.

When she had woken for good, she had found her entire family around her. She had seen dried tears on Arya’s cheeks, and she had seen Rickon being as still as her father. Her drug-hazed mind could not link them to her siblings, she so dearly missed. Then they had seen her awake, and Rickon had lunged himself at her, and she felt warm once again.

Jeyne had been there for little under ten minutes, trying to explain that Ramsay had forced her to go out the door, that she had not wanted to, that she did not want anything like that to have ever happened, that she didn’t even like him, that she was sorry for the one hurt to not be her, that she was sorry Sansa had been hurt in an attempt to save her.

Sansa had hushed her apologies away, had kissed her forehead and held her close. “You were hurt too, Jeyne. Your scars are just internal, and they are not your fault. You are not to blame for anything that happened, and no one should ever make you feel bad for it. You are as much bigger victim than me, and I love you so much, and you are my best friend. I would always come to save you, even if it killed me. I’d always be your knight.”

Jeyne had laughed through tears at that, had kissed Sansa’s cheek and asked her to feel better, and that she would be there when she was released.

They had been walking towards the exit, when they heard loud arguing, and Rickon ran off with a mischievous smile . She smiled at his little, running form and had followed after her father trying to catch him; with as much poise as possible, her father, the ever elegant man.

The voices carried to her, and she could finally hear what they were saying.

“Please, I just need to know.”

“For the tenth time, _Sir_ , I cannot let you through!”

A man dressed in black stood at the reception, arguing with wild gestures, his arms flying all over the place, and Sansa froze in her steps at his familiar stance, his hair, his voice – clouded through her head’s ringing as it was.

It seemed so alike him, that she wanted to cry. _Dreams do not come true, Sansa, not in this way_.

Time seemed to have frozen, the whole world seemed to have frozen over; the whole world seemed to have disappeared, and in this second, there were only them. She held her breath, as he slowly turned around midway through a sentence, as if he too had noticed the shift in the world’s balance, and as her eyes met his, the air seemed to be void, and she _couldn’t breathe_. It was as impossible as if Robb had come back to her.

His lips formed one word, no sounds, her name. A tear slid down her cheek, and she felt herself move forward, slowly but as hurriedly as she could. Jon, Jon, Jon, Jon, Jon. His name was repeated over and over in her head, and as their outstretched hands met, she felt as though his torch was that of a flame. It was scorching her skin and it hurt so good to hold onto him.

“Jon,” she whispered with tears in her eyes. Her other hand traced his face, from his forehead to his chin, from ear to ear. The scar above his right eye, the softness of his curls and the warmth - _the warmth_ – of his skin. “It really is you. Is it not? Am I going mad?”

A hearty laugh escaped his lips and a blinding smile spread across his lips, and he shook his head. “No, sweetling, I’m here. I told you I’d find you.”

His hand softly touched her bandaged head, and her hand gently found his. This was not his fault, and she would not allow guilt to take that smile away from her and replace it with that brooding expression of his. She smiled softly at him, and she felt as though her inner had been replaced by butterflies, and it was like her soul screamed. It was like a force field had been created between them, and she was rendered powerless as an inviolable force pulled them towards each other.

The moment their lips met, and she could feel his heat light her insides on fire, she could hear her heart and soul scream like it was finally united with its other half, it was as forceful and passionate, as she had imagined. The kiss was eloquent, yet somehow it also seemed all-consuming, and she felt her breath dissipate. She had no need of air, when she could feel his strong arms around her, and she felt like nothing else would ever be able to harm her again, now that she had him.

“You came to me,” she whispered, tears threatening to break free, and she held onto his shirt as tightly as she could. She would not allow him to disappear, she would not allow him to only be her imagination. Never again. _Don’t leave me, like Robb did_.

He touched her cheek and pushed some of her hair behind her ear, smiling down to her, and she leaned into his touch, as if it was what kept her tethered to her body.

“I would always come for you, Sansa.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love soulmate AUs and there were next to no one in the Jon/Sansa tag, so I wrote one myself - I hope you liked it :)
> 
> hmu @ henrycaevill.tumblr.com


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